Terror at Glasgow Station: Chapter 6: It Arrives

The clock ticked slowly, as clocks often do when you’re waiting for something.  Not a word had been spoken for fifteen minutes.  Now, in less than ten, the Great Northern Railway’s most famous passenger train would be pulling into Glasgow, its last stop before what would be its last stop ever.

Ed Morris looked at the clock.   “Suppose we’d better get that caboose ready for you,” he said.  “That is, if you still want it.”

“Still want it?” Kane spat.  “Of course we still want it!”

“Bob and I’ll go get it ready,” said Morris, standing up.  “Let’s put it on 77, Bob.”

“77,” Bob assented.  “Got it.”

“Just a second,” said Kane.  He glanced around the room, then nodded at a couple of the gangsters.  “Lefty!  Harris!  You go out and help.  We wouldn’t want you all to get into trouble, now, would we?”

The gangster at the card table and the one on the north end of the bench both stood up.

Ed shrugged.  “Suit yourselves,” he said.  “Just let me get my coat and gloves.  It’ll be mighty chilly out there.  Mighty chilly, indeed.”

Marilyn thought about adding that it was the same way inside, but she kept her mouth shut.

Bob pulled on his warm woolen mittens and tightened a scarf around his neck.  “You fellas ready?” he asked.

The gangsters nodded.  Without a word, the four stepped out into the snow.

Outside, it was almost entirely pitch black.  A couple lamps on the station platform were on—these lit up the platform, but they didn’t do much else against the whirling snow.  Tons of freight cars stood around the yard, black hulks, as were the two trusty steam switchers.  Only the diesels gave a bit of a glow—their gleaming orange paint reflected the lights from the platform.  The white numbers of the diesels stood out against the sky as Ed and Bob worked their way over to a steam engine.

“Hey, hold on a second,” barked one of the gangsters.  “Isn’t that number 77 over there?”

“Yep, that’s her, alright,” Ed said, continuing towards the engine.

“Then what are we using this steam engine for?”

“To put the caboose on the back of the diesel.  It’s already hooked up to this engine.”

“If that’s the case, then why don’t we just use this one?”

Ed stopped and whirled around.  “I got the impression in there that your boss doesn’t settle for anything less than the best.  Well, whaddya want?  A thirty-year-old steam switcher that clanks and groans when it’s operating, or a sleek new diesel from LaGrange?”

The gangster nodded.  “Continue.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside, Peckinpaugh tapped his foot impatiently.  “Where is that stupid train?” he said.  “Shouldn’t it be here by now?”

“Still a few minutes to go, according to the last report,” the station agent muttered.  “It’ll be here soon enough.”

“It must hurry!” Peckinpaugh said.  “The world’s expecting this statue!”

“The world won’t notice if one little statue’s missing,” Marilyn said.  “What’s so important about that one, anyway?  It can’t be that great.”

“Can’t be that great?  Why, it’s a masterpiece—it’s brilliant!  It’s one of the greatest works of art ever invented.  Michelangelo couldn’t have done a better job if he’d tried—here, I’ll show you!”

Peckinpaugh hopped up from his chair, started to leap across the room to the statue, and fell flat on his face.  “Oooh, owww!” he shouted, rubbing his leg.  “Foot’s asleep.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Kane, trying to hide a grin.  “We’re so eager to see your masterpiece.”

“You’ll see it!” Peckinpaugh insisted, staggering to his feet.  He limped the rest of the way to the statue and undid a string around the large packing blankets.  With a sudden flourish, he yanked off the covering, revealing—

An 8-foot tall, slender, porcelain figure with an empty hand stretched out on its left.  The thing had no head.

“Beautiful, is it not?” Peckinpaugh said.

“Sure, it is,” said Kane.  “Right boys?  Isn’t that a pretty sight?”

The gangsters looked quizzically at Kane, caught fire in his eyes, and nodded intently.  Even Marilyn played along.  “It’s amazing!”

“I told you it was a masterpiece!” Peckinpaugh said.  “You’ll want to know the name, I expect.  Resistance.  Can’t you see it, in the fine lines of the biceps, the curvature of the posture, the gracefulness of the stance, the—”

“Why ain’t the head on it?” asked one of the gangsters.

“That’s the most important part!” screamed Peckinpaugh.  “Resistance, gentlemen, is—”

Tooot!

Everyone in the room stopped talking.  “What was that?” Kane asked.

Tooot!

The sound was unmistakeable.

Toot!  Tooot!

“You, dispatcher!  Is that the Empire Builder or isn’t it?” Kane barked.

The dispatcher nodded slowly.  “That’s her, alright.”

“I’ll just make sure,” Peckinpaugh ran for the door.  “I’ve waited long enough for it.”

When he dashed outside, Kane pulled his pistol and trained it on the dispatcher.  “You’ll come and check too,” he said.  “And don’t forget, one false word, and you’re dead.  The rest of you, stay put!”

Wise slowly got to his feet and moved towards the door.  When he was nearly there, Kane kicked him, speeding him the rest of the way.  The two stumbled outside, followed by the gangster who’d been standing next to Wise.  All four men glanced up the line.

Sure enough, a powerful headlight cut through the falling snow.  The Empire Builder!!!!  It was an impressive sight as it weaved its way through the town’s business district, slowing for its stop at one of Montana’s most fortunate towns.

Soon, it was close enough to make out the details.  Street lamps gleamed off the orange and black paint of the diesels.  There were three of them—two cab units and one coach-shaped unit in between that served only for extra power.  Behind these, the coaches soon came into view, all painted the same colors.  That famous logo, a white goat standing on top of a rock with a red circular background and the words Great Northern Railway wrapped around the circle in blue, stood out against the night sky, daring anyone to mess with the Northwest’s finest railway.

As Peckinpaugh watched the engine come into the station, Kane leaned back inside.  “Get that statue wrapped up, and get it out here!” he hissed in a stage whisper.  “That nutty guy’ll take too long to do it.  Have it out on the double.”

Leaning out, he pressed his gun deep into Wise’s ribs.  “Act normal…act perfectly normal!” he said.  “Remember, one false statement, and—”

“The girl gets it.”

“Bright boy!  You’re learning.”  Kane smiled.  “Now, wave like you’re happy to see them.  Hello, hello!”

The engine slowly glided along the platform, engines glittering in the station light.  Wise ran west alongside it, closely followed by Kane and his henchman.  Ahead of them, the engines finally rolled to a stop, just as Wise drew even with the first one.  Up above, the engineer slipped open his window.

“Hi, Howard!” he called.

“Anyone getting off?” Wise asked.

“Not here.  Anybody getting on?”

Wise nodded.  “One person.”

“Good.  How about up the line?  Is that freight that was caught up there earlier still stuck?”

Wise bit his lip.  “Out of the way,” he said.  “You’re all clear the rest of this division.”

“Okay!” shouted the engineer.  “It’s cold, so I think I’ll pass on your coffee this time.  Have a good night!”  He slammed the window to the engine shut.

“Good evening,” said the conductor, opening the door to the lead passenger coach.  “Your ticket, sir.”

“Huh?  Oh, yes.  I’m riding tonight.  Peckinpaugh’s the name.  Horace Peckinpaugh.  Would you like to see my credentials—”

“I just want to see your ticket, sir.  As long as you have a ticket, you can ride this train.”

“Yes, yes, it’s right here in my…no, it’s not in that pocket…must be in this…or maybe it’s—hold everything, my statue!”

He turned towards the station, just in time to see Neil and Steve staggering out with an oversized burden.

“Hey, that’s mine!  I’ll take responsibility for—”

Kane put a firm hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Mr. Peckinpaugh, I hate to seem rude, but this train needs to get going.  Look, those men are taking good care of your statue.  Show the man your ticket, and get on board.  You can’t hold it all the way to Portland.”

“Well…” Peckinpaugh didn’t look happy about the idea, but at least Neil and Steve seemed to be treating the bundle with care.  “Remember, it’s delicate!” he screamed.  “Be very gently when you load it into the baggage car.  Put it in the corner, like I requested—”

“Got it!” yelled Steve.  Behind the two men walked one of the other gangsters from the station.

“Your ticket, sir!” the conductor insisted once more.

“Here it is,” said Peckinpaugh.  “Oh, and conductor, I’m going on to Portland.  Make sure that statue gets put in the baggage car for Portland when we split off!  Otherwise, I’ll sue this railway so badly, you’ll still be paying debts thirty years from now—”

“This railway won’t even be here thirty years from now, if we don’t get moving!” laughed the conductor.  “We’re late enough as it is.  Now, climb aboard.  Your sleeper’s already been prepared with you.”

Peckinpaugh glanced once more up the platform.  The three men had gone inside the baggage car.  Reluctantly, the art courier clambered aboard himself and started down the passage to his sleeper.

Inside, the gangster stood at the door, gun drawn, watching the men.  “That’s nice.  Just leave it right there,” he said.  “Now, get back here with your hands up, and keep them up until you get off this train!”

“You’re not taking any chances, are you?” Neil commented, as he and Steve wandered back to the door.  “You’ll be top gang in Chicago for some time, the way you boys operate!”

“That’s what we’re counting on,” the gangster said.  Pocketing (but still aiming) his gun, he stepped out.  Soon, Neil and Steve followed him.  Neil slammed the coach door, then signaled to the conductor.

“All aboard!” the conductor shouted, stepping back aboard the train.  He slammed the door.  The engineer blew two quick blasts on his horn.  Then, with a roar, the engines started out of the station, leading the Empire Builder west—and straight for disaster!

Kane laughed as he watched it go.  Motioning to the others, he stepped back into the station.  “Alright,” he said.  “Blinky!  Baby Face!  You two stay here and make sure these people don’t cause any trouble.  Duffy and I will give the train just enough time to get out of sight. Then, we’ll join the others in the caboose and start off after it.  When we’ve taken care of Malone and gotten safely to the cabin, we’ll call you.  Wait for that phone to ring.  And don’t any of you think that just because the train’s left, you can spill the beans now.  We’re not letting you go until we’ve gotten safely away!  Do I make myself clear?”

Neil and Steve nodded.  Howard, on the other hand, wasn’t paying attention.  His eyes were fixed on something behind the Japanese screen.

            It was an eight-foot-tall statue of a headless figure, left arm outstretched!